


What You Actin' Shy For

by loindexter



Category: Check Please! (Webcomic)
Genre: Light Bondage, M/M, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Prostate Massage, Safewords
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-10-12
Updated: 2015-10-12
Packaged: 2018-04-26 00:55:12
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,094
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4983637
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/loindexter/pseuds/loindexter
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Nursey likes to push. Dex likes to argue. Sometimes they agree.</p>
            </blockquote>





	What You Actin' Shy For

**Author's Note:**

> i'm a worm, a worthless worm........

Eventually Derek starts making Dex repeat the safe word five times before they start, just to make _extra_ sure he actually knows what the hell it is. Dex does so sheepishly, pressing his pink face against the side of his bicep, which is how Derek knows he appreciates it.

Then Derek shoves on Dex’s bound hands, which pushes his face hard into the pillow of his dorm room bed, and Dex whispers, “Shit.”

They wouldn’t even need the safe word if Dex could just learn to say no and actually mean it. Derek doesn’t want to control him, after all; he just wants to push him. Derek came to terms with it fairly easily, even though it’s compulsive, even though it makes him feel crazy, the farthest point on the map from chill, on opposite fucking poles. He came to terms with it before anything he actually wanted was on the table–keeping his stupid chirps tucked into the high end of a smirk, not a slight bit bothered when Dex snapped back, not bothered at all. Well, except for the hot-and- variety, sometimes.

Anyway, it’s the fact that Dex likes to be pushed so much that has taken some getting used to.

Derek tugs Dex’s hips until he’s kneeling, face down, ass up, with his elbows bent, hands tied together with his own red neck tie and resting over the nape of his neck.

“Jesus, Nursey,” Dex says, muffled, from under his own wrist. “What the fuck is wrong with you.”

“Nothing you aren’t totally into, man,” Derek replies, easy, leaning down to plant a kiss between Dex’s shoulder blades. He leans a little harder than he should, maybe, letting the buttons of his shirt make little pink marks on Dex’s warm bare back. “You ready?”

“Fuck off,” is Dex’s loving response. Maybe that’s just as charitable as a hockey bro gets, when he’s folded up naked under another guy. “Stop touching me with your creepy little dick.”

Derek smiles, jumping his hips forward. “What creepy little dick?”

“What, that’s a gun your pocket? Wait, what’s the pansy hipster equivalent of James Bond–” He cuts off when Derek bumps against him a little harder.

“Just happy to see you.”

Slightly strangled, “Are your jeans made of _sand paper?”_

Derek straightens up with a laugh. “Alright, chill.”

“Don’t even.”

Derek laughs again, and presses both his thumbs behind Dex’s balls, firm, like a back massage, kneading up toward his hole and down again.

And Dex blurts, _“Fuck,_ no.”

Hence, the safe word.

After their first couple hook ups were cut short by Dex saying things along the lines of ‘stop it before I rip your hand off’ and then glaring in abject humiliation and betrayal when Derek wouldn’t jack him anymore, Derek began to realize–through some top notch intuition followed by persistently needling Dex into admitting as much–that Dex just wanted to argue. All the time. About _everything_. Particularly, Derek thinks, when he wants Derek to do something he doesn’t want to want.

So Derek doesn’t stop. He presses a little harder into Dex’s perineum with one hand and pops the cap on the lube with the other. “You’re fine, Dex,” he says.

“Shows what you know, asshole,” Dex replies through gritted teeth. He’s turning red from his ears to his freckled shoulders, and the muscles in his thighs are already quivering.

And he probably just thinks Derek’s going to fuck him. Oh, well.

Derek sticks the narrow end of the lube bottle directly into Dex’s asshole and squeezes. Most of the lube gets forced right back out, but the feel of it makes Dex flinch, which is the point. He flinches again, more violently, his elbows jerking in like he has to protect his face, when Derek pushes it all back in with his finger. It’s a recoil he can’t seem to fully relax out of, his muscles hard everywhere, twitching with tension.

“Take it easy,” Derek murmurs, poking in yet more lube.

“Jesus.”

“Jesus,” Derek agrees cheerily. Then he crouches over to blow a cool gust of air over Dex’s tight cock and balls.

 _“Jesus,”_ Dex whispers, twisting away from the wind. As his thighs meet, his ass clenches around Derek’s finger and he chokes, “Knock it off!”

Derek snorts and hooks the finger down.

“Ungh– _you._ Shit.”

“Eloquent, as always.”

“Shut up.”

“Just lie back and think of England, Dexy.”

“You’re an actual psychopath, you know that?” Dex snaps. _“'Lie back.’”_ He tilts his hips to accentuate his current position and inability to lie back–which…Derek could stand to see happen again–but then he shuts up and lets Derek finger him.

At least, for a while.

A couple minutes, tops.

When nothing changes and Derek just keeps pushing back and forth, Dex makes an odd grumbling noise. “That’s…” he manages. “What are you doing?”

What he means is that they’ve never gone this slow before and he wants Derek to stick it in him.

Derek smiles. “Generously servicing my boyfriend.”

Dex’s grumbling turns into a low noise of complaint, a few notes shy of a whine. He tries to pull his legs together again, like that will relieve the tension instead of making everything tighter, and flexes his whole body away from Derek’s ministrations, which coincidentally increase in pressure. When it doesn’t work, because he can’t get any leverage with his hands tied and his chest against the bed, he asks miserably, “What the fuck is happening right now?”

“Don’t worry about it, man.”

Dex actually laughs breathlessly at that and parts his knees again. A string of precome stretches from his inner thigh to his cock and then breaks, dripping down his leg and onto the bed.

At the sight of it, Derek pauses for a long, still moment, and then adds another finger.

“Oh, _fuck,”_ Dex says, spreading his legs further. A little glob of precome drools out with each of the next three times Derek presses his prostate–one, two, three, like the world’s dirtiest waltz, a sticky stream connecting the head of his dick to the sheets on the bed. “Jerk me off,” he gasps, shaking with it. His arms and hands lurch abortively like he’s going to try to do so himself. “Please touch me. I–”

He stops with a cringe when Derek taps the back of his cock. It jumps and twitches and leaks.

 _“What the hell Nursey,”_ Dex whispers soulfully.

Derek doesn’t answer, just dips down and mouths across the pale back of Dex’s rib cage while he works.

Dex shudders through several breaths and then unfolds his elbows so he can get up on them and look down between his legs, ostensibly catching an upside down glimpse of his own dick dripping.

“I…” He gulps. “I’m only–half hard,” he manages to say, sounding even more desperate now, with a thrust forward into thin air. “I don’t even know how–”

Derek nips slightly a cluster of freckles close to Dex’s spine. “Want to take a break?” he murmurs against all that blushing skin.

“Fuck you,” Dex replies, letting his face drop between his biceps again. “I want– _Quit it!”_

Derek quits squeezing his balls with a shaky laugh, but the fingertips of his other hand keep scrubbing Dex’s prostate like it has a stain that needs rubbing out. It’s all getting to be a lot. When Dex breathes it begins to sound like crying. His hole clenches every time his hips jolt, and he’s getting beard burn on his back from Derek’s stubble.

“I want you to come like this,” Derek says.

“I _can’t,”_ Dex insists, but his hips start spasming forward. His back bends like a dog in heat.

“I wish you’d believe in your dreams, man.”

“Shut _up,_ Nursey.”

“You’re fine, bro,” Derek breathes against Dex’s shoulder blade. “You’re okay. You can do this, I promise.”

“Shut up, shut up, shut up–just shut the _fuck up_ –” Dex chants, humping the air hopelessly.

“It’ll be different, but it’ll be good,” says Derek, he sits back for just a second so he can watch the precome drip drip drip from the tip of Dex’s cock like a leaky faucet. “It’ll be so good, Dex.”

“Would you stop talking for _two seconds?”_

“I’ve got you. You’re gonna like it.”

Derek reaches up and grabs Dex’s bound wrists with his free hand, pulling them back behind his neck again, pushing down.

Dex’s whine gets muffled in the pillow.

They aren’t even being their loudest, but Derek’s neighbors certainly know what’s up. His bed thumps against his desk every time Dex moves, and Dex is moving like he couldn’t stop if the President kicked down the door and mandated it.

Derek nuzzles his chin against the red spot on Dex’s back. “Come on, Dex,” he says, starting to get real focused, like the climax of his favorite novel, like overtime on the ice, like bickering with Dex at its best. “Show me what you can do.”

“Fuck you, fuck you, fuck you–” Dex is saying against half a mouthful of cotton.

Leaning down harder against Dex’s snapping hips, Derek pushes on his prostate from the outside too, his thumb against the perineum and fingers still inside–and pinches.

Dex sobs into the pillow once, twice, and starts to come.

“There you go,” Derek whispers. “You take it so well.”

“I can’t,” Dex says again. His voice cracks.

“You can,” Derek says. “You already did.” He makes sure to rub him through it, stroking up the inside of one thigh with his other hand.

Eventually Dex whimpers in a way that makes Derek pull his fingers out, and then goes silent, breathing hard.

Derek sits back, harder in his jeans than he’s been probably ever in his _life_ , and watches as one last drop of come dribbles out onto the sizable wet spot on his bed. He looks at Dex heaving for air and feels dirty and reverent at the same time. Dex, with his long, powerful body, his legs spread on Derek’s twin mattress, his freckled biceps huge and flexing on either side of his head, his pretty pink cock still twitching weakly like it can beckon a touch by itself–it’s enough to make a chiller man than Derek Nurse stop to take a quelling breath.

Derek unties Dex’s wrists, rubbing each of them in turn. “You okay?” he asks as Dex rolls over.

Dex laughs and shrugs, getting that embarrassed-happy look he sometimes does. His eyelashes are wet and his silly ginger hair is all smushed in front. “Yeah, I’m– That was really…” He laughs again.

Derek combs his hair back with both hands and kisses him thoroughly.

Dex settles down and opens his mouth against Derek’s with a smile. He kisses back, tired but affectionate, until Derek’s jeans grind down on his oversensitive cock and he pulls back with a hiss.

“Sorry. I need to– Put your arms around me, around my shoulders,” Derek instructs, reaching down to open his pants.

When Dex does, Derek scoots down to mush his face against Dex’s collarbone and jacks off onto his asshole, which takes less time than he’s willing to admit. 

Luckily, Dex doesn’t seem to be paying very close attention anyway, dozing slightly with his cheek on Derek’s hair, arms heavy and boneless around him.

He jerks back into the present when Derek uses his cock to stuff some of his jizz into Dex’s slick hole.

“Leave me _alone,”_ Dex gripes. He tightens his hold on Derek in what could either be tenderness or a half-hearted strangulation attempt.

“I’m done, I’m done,” Derek says with a soft kiss to Dex’s chin, his cheek, his eyebrow, his forehead, but he doesn’t pull out. He bumps their noses and asks, “You’d say it, right? If you didn’t like–”

“Are we seriously going to fight about this again, man?” Dex mutters, rolling his eyes.

Derek sighs and nips him on the lower lip. “Just making sure.”

“I’m _sure_. I’m…” Dex grimaces as Derek settles down on top of him. “It was good, okay? It was really–I’m gonna say something stupid. No more questions. What’s your problem?”

“I love the stupid shit you say, dude,” Derek says, grinning, sated. “You can do me next time. Fair warning, though? Pruny fingers.”

Dex laughs again and it makes him squeeze down around Derek. “Jesus,” he says. “Okay so, for real this time: get your creepy little dick away from me.”

“You love my dick and it’s _huge,”_ Derek says, “but alright,” and pulls out.


End file.
